I could tell, from his back flap publicity picture—complete with cowboy hat, sideways glance, and sunglasses—that Craig Monson had not produced a conventional academic book. In fact, that was tacit, given the pop title and the implicit titillation. So, while the prose style is refreshingly readable, what impresses me most about this book is the profound and surprising amount of archival research into sixteenth through eighteenth century Italian convent and official Vatican records, all handwritten (of course) in Italian and Latin, that Monson had to get through. And what is perhaps more impressive is how he was able first to sift through it all to find the nuggets, and then to transform that difficult, plodding research into fascinating narratives. I am a slow reader, but I galloped through this book in two days, and was able to remember the salient details easily, since Monson has a way of making the stories fascinating. One clever reading aid he provides, for example, is a four page list of the cast of characters, or Dramatis Personae as he phrases it, that populate each of the five central stories that fill the book. The Dramatis Personae made for a handy reference as I tried to keep the many-named sisters, Catholic officials, and lay Italians straight.

In the introduction, Monson describes the researcher’s experience within the Secret Archives reading room at the Vatican, and then moves along to orient the reader to, variously, the world of sixteenth to eighteenth century convent life, how typical convent buildings were laid out, the customs of conventual living, and the expectations the Church had of nuns. He also discloses how he approaches his selection of the stories and his method of teasing out the stories from the archival letters, official documents, and legal proceedings. His approach is very straightforward and he distinctly seems to approach each real-life story objectively.

Monson does not seem to have an agenda. He does not exhibit anti-Catholic feelings, nor does he present material representing aberrant behavior to shock or defame. Rather, he approaches the material as social history, with the idea that extreme cases shed light on the norms and belief systems in place. While he is drawn to archival records that relate to the more musical aspects of convents, he does not focus much on musicology per se—odd because he is a professor of music at Washington University in St. Louis. Rather, he is more interested in understanding the female cloistered life in Italy during this period.

Of the book’s seven chapters, five are devoted each to a tale of one or more nuns behaving badly, in 1584–1735 Italy. “Behaving badly” is a relative term. One chapter focuses on a nun who leaves the cloister to watch an opera, but is caught when she returns. She had to be amazingly clever to escape the rule of clausura (mandatory monastic enclosure) and sneak out and then back in, but by doing so, she basically ruined her life, fighting the Vatican and its hierarchy, as well as other sisters, for much of the remaining decades of her life. Other acts were more egregious. An entire convent agreed, in its majority, to burn the convent down, because the sisters were no longer content there. They figured they could simply be released from their vows and return to their families once the convent had burned, since one official justification for breaking the norm of female monastic enclosure was having one’s convent burn down. The other tales focus on nuns who performed magic, invoking the “dark angel,” to identify where a missing viola might be; or performed magic to entice men to fall in love with them; or brazenly sang in public, or danced, or created lavish embroidery, all to bring recognition to themselves. One tale concerns a nun who falls in love with another, younger one. They elope (thus violating clausura, subjecting them to excommunication) but are caught and brought back. Most deal with aristocratic nuns acting in self-centered, rather than in spiritually consecrating, ways.

But is this book of interest to folklorists? Is it more than a wonderfully entertaining and informative read? Certainly, for folklorists interested in medieval culture, Italy, religious studies, narrative studies, or gender roles, this book has specific contextual interest. Beyond these fields of study, Monson does touch on quite relevant folkloric topics that would be of interest to folklorists generally. For instance, the tale that centers on magic is interesting for what it says about the magic itself—the charms, the invocations, the rituals used. In that same tale (chapter 2, “Dangerous Enchantments: What the Inquisitor Found, San Lorenzo [Bologna, 1584]”), Monson discusses the role of the Inquisitor and his methods of interrogation. I found it fascinating (and a little scary) that the Inquisitor’s approach to an interview has parallels to that of a folklorist, or an oral historian. For instance, Maestro Eliseo, the Inquisitor, drew up his questions in advance and interrogated everyone with the same questions, so there would be a base level of comparison. He interviewed the largest sample he could, and interviewed systematically, in his case, from the senior administrative level down to the lowest level. “Over several months, more than a hundred nuns and converse would be called, plus the odd priest, friar, and layperson, from as far away as Cremona. Many would be called a second or third time” (43). Further, “Maestro Eliseo followed strict guidelines, clearly established and carefully monitored. He kept meticulous written records, copied hastily on the spot. Not only witnesses’ every word was transcribed, but sometimes also their appearance and actions. Volunteered remarks were distinguished from responses to specific questions” (39).

Likewise, that Donna Maria Christina Cavassa’s escape to an opera happened during Carnival, would be intrinsically interesting to a folklorist. Cavassa, an aristocratic sister who was a highly respected and well-known singer herself, donned an abbot’s robes as her disguise, figuring she would blend in better during the inversions of Carnival. While Monson discusses carnival tradition to some degree, he misses an opportunity to delve more deeply into it with this episode. He relies on a general Italian work for his understanding of carnival (Lodovico Frati, La vita privata di Bologna dal secolo xiii al xvii [Bologna: Zanichelli, 1900; reprinted Rome: Bardi Editore, 1968]) rather than consulting the abundant literature on carnival in folklore, anthropology, and other disciplines. However, given Monson’s exhaustive research performed to create this fine work, I consider my comment here merely an observation and far from a criticism. In fact, this book implicates so many different potential studies—from gender studies to religious studies to folklore—that one could see it as both an accomplished piece of scholarship in and of itself as well as the launching pad for more extensive forays into detailed studies that the tales elicit.

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[Review length: 1129 words • Review posted on August 25, 2011]